


take me home

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's the nth wedding mark's attending and not getting married at, and he's starting to get a little tired of it- that is, until he meets a little ball of sunshine by the name of choi youngjae.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me home

 

 

Mark does not like weddings.

He dislikes fancy suits and lots of standing and socialising, when everyone seems to feel this inexplicable urgency to ask him when a _fine young man like you’ll be having your turn_ , as if he was deliberately staving off the prospect of finding the perfect partner and marrying them.

The only reason why he’s here is Jinyoung. Maybe Jaebum. And the free food. That’s always a plus.

He shifts uncomfortably in his dress shirt and pinchy _pixie shoes_ , as Yugyeom had enthusiastically called them, much to Bambam’s distaste ( _those are one-of-a-kind, fall edition oxford shoes gifted by yours truly, Gyeom, has having me as your boyfriend for all these years done_ nothing _to improve your pitiful sense of fashion, I’m disgraced to be seen beside you-…)_ , and sadly effortlessly blends into the wallpaper near the buffet table, resisting the urge to take out his phone and start playing Candy Crush _._

He ends up watching the very perfect, very happy couple across the classy function room, in the midst of a throng of their friends, taking a gazillion congratulatory selfies and hugging everyone and everything (or rather Jinyoung’s hugging, and Jaebum looks like he’s only tolerating the hugs because Jinyoung threatened him with the prospect of kicking out Nora from their future apartment) and eventually sighs.

Okay. Maybe being oldest among their group of friends and still the only bachelor is grating on him a little.

It’s not like he’s particularly _averse_ to attachment and romance, per se- he’s just never found the _right person_ , and stupid, sappy stuff like that is sadly important to him. He’d dated once back in high school, and experimented a little in college, but then work had gotten in the way once he graduated, and suddenly he was 29 and too old for Bambam’s parties, too unknown for Jinyoung’s socialite gatherings, too awkward for all his office outings, just floating in a limbo of single life and work.

Mark takes several steps back as a pack of kids rush past, the girls tripping in their frilly white dresses, silver hair bands lopsided from rough play, while one boy’s fake suspenders sail behind him, its owner obviously having given up on tolerating them. A mother eyes one of the girls fiercely from where she’s somehow also managing to engage a group of women in strident conversation, and the child slows down in her new white ballet flats, looking reproachful.

That was another thing- kids. Mark could very well do without every supposed perk that comes with having a partner (a shoulder to cry on at night, gooey covert text messages in the middle of work, all the vomit inducing public cuddles), except for, you know. The kids.

The family.

He’d dreamt of having four, two boys and two girls, changing their diapers and waking up late at night to feed them and giving them piggyback rides back home from preschool, holding his partner close on the couch, surrounded by their kids, watching silly movies together that he’d fall asleep in the middle of.

But like all his other dreams, that one eventually died with his childhood, buried under obscene things like _taxes_ and _promotions_ , and eventually he just didn’t think about it, apart from the times he was reminded by everything around him of everything he didn’t have.

Damn. Things just got pretty depressing.

Mark picks up a cocktail stick, nibbling on a chunk of pineapple, wearily eyeing the crowd around the alcohol table. Getting wasted had long lost its novelty- Younghyun called it maturity, Yugyeom called it senior citizenship, but whatever it was, it sure was saving him a lot of booze money. Now seems like a great time to leave- especially since he’s already let Jinyoung manhandle him into taking his fair share of pictures.

He’s trying to catch Jinyoung’s eye from a safe distance away, so he’s polite enough to tell them he’s leaving but also not in sufficient proximity for Jinyoung to talk him into staying, when someone dims the lights and puts on a pop song from their time (they’re really decking out hotel ballrooms these days), and a bunch of people start cheering.

Wow. Mark is _really_ not all that hot about grinding up against a bunch of people right now. He is leaving, period, whether or not he tells Jinyoung- he’ll bring an extra nice gift to their housewarming party maybe. A perk of having zero life and working till his brain is coming out of his ears is that he’s currently loaded- I mean, who would even _want_ to give that up for a partner and kids and a big house and a dog, right?

_Right?_

Mark demolishes the rest of his snack deftly, before turning around to toss the stick and get out of here while he still can, when he catches someone’s eye from across the table.

Or rather, a pair of eyes, so incredibly bright he’s almost mesmerised by them, especially in the semi-darkness like this. They seem to go on forever, this endless cascade of glimmering dark that bores straight into Mark’s soul.

The two of them stand there, staring until it gets a little awkward, and Mark clears his throat, unsure of what to do.

“Hey…?” he tries.

Then the tiny, bright-eyed boy across the table reaches up, the top of his fluffy dark hair just peeking above the edge of the banquet table, and, with the same intense stare, points at the cocktail sausages hopefully.

“He-…oh. Oh you want the-…” Mark blinks, quickly picking one up by the toothpick part of it, reaching over to hand it to the little boy. “Here you go.”

The boy breaks out into the biggest smile, eyes lighting up as he takes the finger food, stammering out a messy _thank you_ before popping the whole sausage into his mouth at one go and chewing happily.

Mark looks around, wondering where all the other kids have gone- then he sees Jihyo herding the last of the kids out the door, saying something about going upstairs for cakes and hot chocolate. Loud, ringing laughter from the alcohol table immediately answers his question of _why_ : it wouldn’t do for a bunch of kids to be around to see what happens next.

The man wonders why the little boy wasn’t included in their group, when he realises that most of those kids were a lot older than him- he’d probably be left behind if he tried to play with them.

The kid looks two, almost three, and is wearing a nice white shirt that looks obviously way too big to have been bought for him- it’s been tucked into his pants and the sleeves rolled up so many times it looks like he’s wearing pool floaties. Upon closer inspection, Mark can see little moles speckled close to the corner of his pretty, angular eyes, too.

The little boy wanders away from the table, and Mark lets out a breathy laugh, keeping an eye on him to make sure he gets back to his mom safely.

Then Mark realises the boy’s walking _around_ the buffet table towards _him_ , still nibbling on the stick, before looking up at him again, a tad hopefully this time.

Before he can say anything, though, the boy extends the arm with the stick, now with only the cucumber slice left on it.

“For you,” he says.

“Oh, you uh,” The man takes the stick, trying not to laugh. “You don’t like cucumbers?”

“No,” the little boy frowns at the cucumber, now in Mark’s hand, as if it’d personally offended him.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like a lot of things too,” Mark goes down to eye level with him, gets a proper look at the wide eyes, fluffy hair and round face, little lips pursed as the boy tries to look at the sausages again, and _gosh_ , he’s so cute, Mark has to resist pinching his cheeks. “What’s your name, little guy?”

The boy swells up a little, then, suddenly beaming proudly and pointing to himself.

“My name is Youngjae,” he says in English. Then he repeats the same thing in Korean, then in Mandarin, then is about to go on when Mark starts laughing.

“Alright, alright, I heard you the first time,” he chuckles. “You know a _lot_ of languages, don’t you?”

“Yep!” Youngjae smiles wide. He’s staring at Mark curiously now. “Are you a star?”

Mark splutters a little, laughing. “Wha-…a star? Why would you think that?”

“My daddy meets a lot of stars,” Youngjae says seriously. “They give me food and smile and are really handsome, like you.”

 _Stars_ \- Youngjae probably means pop stars and celebrities. His dad’s probably part of Jinyoung’s socialite circle, then, and Mark feels a little intimidated, wondering if some big shot director’s going to come out of nowhere and chase him out for talking to his son.

Would some really rich guy give his child a hand-me-down shirt, though?

“You think I’m handsome?” Mark grins, and Youngjae nods enthusiastically, albeit a little shyly. “Well I think you’re very cute.”

Youngjae giggles, raising his arms to do a heart on top of his head, except his arms are too short, and his hands just manage to touch each other, and _shit_ , Mark is head over heels in deep for this little kid.

The song changes, then, to something a little more hip hop, and people are already starting to flail to the music, laughing hysterically- Mark blanches, it’s not like the alcohol had been brought out all that long ago.

Youngjae’s jumping and giggling, now, Mark realises, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and suddenly bursts out in song when the song hits the chorus.

“You like this song?” Mark asks over the music, and Youngjae nods enthusiastically, continuing to sing.

“We listen to it when we sit the bus,” Youngjae’s starting to dance, bopping to the music, before he tugs on Mark’s hand, pulling him closer to the crowd. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?” Mark says, suddenly nervous, glancing over at the mass of people dancing. “There? It’s a little crowded, Jae, let’s not-…”

“Goooo,” Youngjae whines. “Dance!”

Mark lets himself be dragged over to the fringe of the dancefloor, carefully guiding Youngjae out of the way of a very enthusiastic couple, before Youngjae lets go of his hand and starts dancing around to the music.

If it can be called dancing, anyway- the way Youngjae dances is like he’s trying to move all his limbs at once, except he can’t because he needs one of his legs to remain standing, and looks like he’s constantly trying not to fall, all the time with the most ecstatic look on his face.

Mark can’t help but grin as he watches him, unconsciously moving to the music himself- he _used_ to dance, he remembers telling Yugyeom every time the boy begs him to go clubbing with him and Bambam, back when the two of them weren’t dating and Yugyeom had been trying to court the other boy.

“You dance great!” Mark tells Youngjae over the music, and the little boy giggles with glee.

Youngjae eventually reaches up to grab Mark’s hand- or rather two of Mark’s fingers, anyway, and starts dancing with him (or rather stumbling into Mark’s legs and bouncing off while he jumps around), and Mark laughs, feeling the happiest he’d felt in a while.

*

They dance for two more songs before Mark retires, embarrassingly out of breath, and the two of them raid the fruit punch dispenser while the people on the dance floor get progressively drunker.

“It’s getting late,” Mark says- he’d whisked the little boy to a quieter corner of the ballroom, and had been talked into giving Youngjae a piggyback ride while the boy ate another round of cocktail sausages. He thinks about Youngjae’s hypothetical big shot director dad, and thinks better of it. “Where’s your mommy, Jae? She’s probably getting worried.”

Youngjae’s got a mouthful of sausages when he gives Mark the stick with the cucumber (the fifth tonight) and points to the ceiling.

“Upstairs?” Mark recalls Jihyo leaving with the kids and some of the moms earlier that night. “She left you here with your daddy and went upstairs?”

Youngjae shakes his head, still chewing.

“Is she in the crowd?” Mark’s craning his neck to look over the crowd, hefting Youngjae a little higher on his back. “Where’d you see her last, Jae?”

The little boy finally finishes eating, and replies promptly. “In daddy’s wallet.”

This gives Mark some pause. “You last saw your mom in your dad’s wallet?”

“Yeah! I can show you!” Youngjae wiggles down from Mark’s back, then, and something occurs to Mark.

“Wait, Jae, hang on a sec-…” Mark starts hesitantly, as Youngjae takes off into the crowd. “Youngjae!”

“Daddy!” Youngjae’s shouting, trying to look around. “Daddy?”

“Whoa, whoa hey, look out,” Mark lifts Youngjae out of the way when someone dances too close, and Youngjae suddenly points, squirming eagerly in Mark’s grip.

“He’s there! Daddy’s there!”

“Careful!” Mark says, as Youngjae speeds away again, chasing him all the way to one of the round tables, where a blond-dyed man is getting up, looking confused as Youngjae runs into him, giggling as he clings onto one of his legs.

Mark’s first thought is _he doesn’t look like some big shot director to me,_ firstly because he’s way too young, maybe around Mark’s age or a little younger, even. He’s also not dressed in clothes made out of money, which is the pretty big second warning that Mark’s gotten something wrong.

“Youngjae? I thought you were with Jaehyung,” the man’s looking at Mark- his eyes are wide and with the hair, he looks kind of familiar. “Hey was he-….I’m sorry-…”

“Daddy! Wallet, wallet,” Youngjae’s pawing at one of his pockets, and the man looks even more confused.

“I’m so sorry, hang on a sec,” he says to Mark, before speaking in a lower tone to Youngjae. “Wait, Jae, why do you need my wallet?”

“I wanna show uncle Mark mommy!” Youngjae says impatiently, and Mark sort of freezes there at the expression on the other man’s face. “He wanted to see mommy!”

There’s a pause here, when Mark finally _gets it_ and the music, the laughter, the alcohol-tinged air fades out, and all he can see is Youngjae and this man, and realise how big a mistake he’s just made.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea-…” Mark stutters. “Youngjae it’s alright, you don’t have to show me-…”

“But I want to show uncle Mark!” Youngjae’s getting more cross, still struggling to pull Jackson’s wallet from his back pocket. “Daddy!”

“Yeah, okay,” the other man says, ruffling Youngjae’s hair and handing him the wallet, before he turns to smile tiredly at Mark. “Sorry about that. I thought he was with Jaehyung- he must’ve let Youngjae wander off. I’m Jackson. Jackson Wang- a business partner of Jaebum’s, friend of Jinyoung’s.”

“Mark Tuan, Jinyoung’s friend,” Mark accepts the hand that’s been offered, not quite sure how to act.

“Tuan? Like of the Tuan Foundation?” Jackson’s obviously trying to change the subject, and Mark’s glad for the reprieve, so much he forgets how much he hates talking about his job.

“Yeah, my dad’s the CEO,” he lets slip, before wishing he could knock himself out for saying that. _Yeah, sound just a little bit more privileged and elitist, why don’t you._ “I mean-…”

Jackson whistles. “That’s pretty cool,” he grins, hefting Youngjae up into his arms as the boy flips through his wallet. “I’m a lifestyle reporter for the Seoul Shinmun, I met Jaebum when I was covering one of his short films. You might know my colleagues back at the news desk- they cover the Tuan Foundation all the time.”

A _lifestyle reporter_ \- that’s probably how Youngjae’d come to know all those celebrities, then.

“He’s a star, daddy,” Youngjae says absently, frowning in concentration as he tries to manoeuvre Jackson’s wallet, before turning to face his father seriously. “You should work a net with him.”

“What happened just now- he didn’t cause you any trouble, right?” Jackson seats Youngjae on his lap back on the chair, nodding for Mark to take a seat beside him at the table. “Ugh, I asked Jaehyung to keep an eye on him for _one second_ while I talked to Jinyoung, one- he’s probably getting drunk right now.”

“Drunk!” Youngjae cheers, throwing his hands in the air.

“No drunk,” Jackson frowns. “Remember, alcohol destroys your liver.”

“Alcohol destroys your liver,” Youngjae repeats obediently, before going back to the wallet.

Mark laughs, watching the boy fondly- he hasn’t met someone whom he's been able to be this honest with in a while, he realises.

“You around kids a lot?” Jackson quizzes, then, watching him curiously, and Mark shakes his head.

“Nah, I just used to have a lot of young nieces and nephews, but they’re all grown up now,” he mumbles, chewing on his lower lip. “I’d-…I’d always thought about having some of my own.”

“Then you got a nice busy job and life got in the way?” Jackson chuckles, with a slightly bitter smile that Mark doesn’t miss. He shrugs, mostly for the lack of anything better to say. “Can’t seem to find a time for a partner and a ring and a house?”

Mark gives him a wry smile. “I’d make the time- I just haven’t found the person to make it for.”

Jackson nods slowly, expression shifting inexplicably, and Youngjae seems to finally find what he’s looking for- he leaps off Jackson’s lap, squeezing in beside Mark.

“This is my mommy,” he’s pulled a photo out halfway, a worn old Polaroid showing a couple: Jackson, looking about half a decade younger, and a woman with wide eyes and a bright smile. “Her name is Youngji- daddy named me after her. She looks like me!”

“Yeah, she does,” Mark says weakly, looking over at Jackson hesitantly, but the other man isn’t making a move to stop Youngjae, instead watching him with a weary sort of contentment.

Youngjae remains on Mark’s lap, seemingly satisfied with the seat, to continue looking through his dad’s wallet, and Mark isn’t quite sure where to look, or what to say, until Jackson clears his throat.

“Cancer,” he says, quite clearly and quite calmly, like he’s explained this so many times he can do it on autopilot. “It got one of her legs, spread to her lungs and heart- it was over in about a year and a half, three years after we got married. Faster than most cases,” he gives a tight smile. “I guess we should be grateful.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mark mumbles, bouncing Youngjae gently on his knees, and the little boy giggles, grabbing onto his jacket. “You’ve been uhm, with Youngjae by yourself then?”

“My parents help out when they visit, but they’re in Hong Kong most of the time- I’m bonded to my job here for another two years, too, and Jae just got settled in preschool,” Jackson shrugs. “Once my bond’s over, though, I’ll be moving back home.”

Mark nods slowly, processing this information, and Youngjae makes a noise, extending the hand with Jackson’s wallet towards his father.

“Thanks for taking care of Youngjae,” Jackson says, then, voice low and honest. “I got a little worried when Jaebum-hyung got out the alcohol, but I thought Jaehyung or Jihyo would’ve brought Youngjae up with the other kids. Speaking of which, Jae,” he turns to his son with a frown, before code switching effortlessly to English. “I thought I told you to play with the other children.”

Youngjae makes an indiscriminate noise, having managed to steal Mark’s wallet and currently going through its contents too, before mumbling a reply in the same language. “I didn’t want to play.”

“They were a little too fast for him,” Mark explains, realising a little too late that he wasn’t meant to understand what they were saying. “He might have felt a little left out.”

Jackson blinks, but Youngjae barely notices. “You speak English too?”

Mark flushes slightly, before half-shrugging. “Yeah, I’m-…I’m American-Taiwanese actually, my dad just moved us to Seoul when I was ten for business.”

“Uncle Mark speaks Mandarin too,” Youngjae says importantly in Korean, seeming to take pride in knowing something his father doesn’t. “He speaks a lot of languages,” Youngjae suddenly straightens up. “Like me! I know how to speak Mandarin. _My name is Youngjae. My daddy is Wang Ka-yee, his number is 02-394-2109. Can you bring me to the police station please?_ ”

There’s a lapse, as Youngjae beams expectantly, and Mark tries not to laugh.

Jackson massages his temples, looking embarrassed. “Jae, you’re only supposed to say that if you get lost when we’re in Hong Kong,” he sighs, avoiding Mark’s eyes.

“Anyway, Mark, thanks again, but Youngjae and I really should be going, it’s way past Jae’s bed time and-…” a cork pops in the distance, and Jackson winces, looking at Youngjae nervously, who seems unperturbed- being the son of a lifestyle reporter has probably exposed him to worse, but it doesn’t look like Jackson’s relaxing his standards anytime soon. “And we’ve got a long journey ahead.”

“Are you driving?” Mark asks, as Jackson gets up, wishing, for an irrational moment, that they would stay a little longer.

“Uh, no,” Jackson hesitates. “We don’t-…uh, we don’t own a car. You know, I thought, since I’m only going to be here for a couple more years, it wouldn’t be worth-…”

“I can give you a lift?”

Mark says it much too quickly, and _shit_ , he wants to take everything back, because it sounds creepy and he’s so going to be shut out of Jackson’s books after this, and-…

“I wanna ride in Uncle Mark’s car!” Youngjae says, leaping off Mark’s lap to run into Jackson. “Daddy, can we? Can we please? I’ll learn my Chinese well! I’ll do,” he pauses, counting in dialect on his tiny fingers, “700 pages of exercise book!”, he beams, showing nine fingers.

Jackson looks torn, and Mark’s much too hopeful and much too fearful for a minute, before the other man lets out a weak laugh.

“If you could,” he says, struggling to pull on a grin that he probably uses for a lot of his interviews and broadcasts. “Drop us off at the bus stop, or a train station-…”

“It’s okay, I’ll drop both of you off at home,” Mark says, schooling his delight into something a little more controlled. “It’s better to be safe, with it being dark out like this and all, anyway.”

Youngjae cheers, speeding towards the exit, leaving the two men to trail after him, only catching up when the little boy reaches the elevator and realises he doesn’t actually know where Mark’s car is.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jackson says, tension and embarrassment well hidden in the way he laughs, as they step into the fancy panoramic elevator, and Youngjae presses his nose to the glass, and Mark has a feeling he isn’t just talking about the ride.

“I want to,” Mark says truthfully, and that’s the end of it.

The end of Jackson’s protests, that is.

*

(Youngjae tries to call shotgun but ends up in the back of the car with Jackson, because Mark doesn’t have a booster seat and won’t allow Youngjae to sit in front.

He also very cheerfully gives Mark Jackson’s number (twice in the car, in case Uncle Mark didn’t hear properly the first two times) when he drops them at their house, so they can all go to the amusement park together one day like he promised.

Bringing Youngjae out for dessert (organic and vegan, at Jackson’s worried insistence) becomes a Saturday ritual by some means Mark doesn’t quite remember (he knows it had something to do with Jinyoung, though), and Mark’s lonely studio apartment becomes second home to the father and son as much as their cosy 2-room flat becomes his.

Bambam demands to know, three months after the wedding, why Mark has a booster seat in his car, when he’s catching a lift back from a function.

Mark tosses a package of dried baby carrots with organic ranch dressing in his face to shut him up, and Yugyeom laughs.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello, yup. T_T
> 
> so this is something that sort of just started gently but insistently nudging me as i was scrolling through prompts, and politely refused to stop doing so through the entire day after that. so we decided on a win win settlement where i would write it and it would stop bothering me. \o/
> 
> it also made various rather tiring demands, like for me to go against the surface nature of the prompt, and to totally drop my spy au in order to finish it (as a result, a very disgruntled and upset jingyeom ficlet is currently shelved and about to throw a tantrum). i'm quite glad to be done with it but at the same time not, because. yes. it made me happy. /confetti
> 
> hope everyone enjoys, and again, comments are well and truly appreciated <333 thank you friends.


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